


I Am Flesh and I Am Bone

by AryaWinchester



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Mentions of Riley, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Skinny!Steve, Survival, Tony will become an actual character later, Zombies, cameos to appear, halloweek 2016, halloweek day 1, idk what to tag this, mentions of Sam - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaWinchester/pseuds/AryaWinchester
Summary: Bucky is a loner, facing the apocalypse by himself.Steve is a skinny asthmatic who's actually just a ball of rage with a machete.5 years after the apocalypse has started, the two of them meet and join forces. They have to get to a safe house before the horrible monsters lurking in the dark get them.





	1. In the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloweek has started! Hope you guys like chapter 1! Its a bit shorter so sorry, and theres no Steve yet... Sorry.  
> There's swearing and violence against zombies but thats it? Nothing should be too descriptive, unless I'm a better writer than I thought

Bucky didn't expect to be waking up at 2am. 3am? Sure. But 2? That was earlier than usual.

Bucky also didn't expect to hear scratching at his door, but hey, something new happens everyday.

His eyes are fully open by the second round of clawing and his right hand already under his pillow, gripping the knife he kept there.

He's soon on his feet, keeping quiet. He doesn't know what's outside the apartment door and tries to keep calm, but his paranoia gets the best of him.

_ ‘Probably a murderer,’  _ Bucky thinks,  _ ‘I need to get out of here.’ _

Bucky keeps the lights in his studio apartment off, going only by the streetlights coming through the slatted window blinds and his own instincts.

The apartment is quiet, save for the clawing at his front door. That is, until a woman screams outside. It's followed by two gunshots.

The scratching at the door turns into banging. Bucky crouches, making his way to the fire escape. He should've done that first.

On his way, he grabs a shirt hanging over the back of a chair and pulls it on. He makes his way over to the window and opens the trunk under it. Digging through the winter coats and tools, Bucky pulls out a backpack and throws it over a shoulder. He grabs a jacket too, just in case. He silently thanks army training and PTSD, making him always prepared for the worst. He does one more check through his house, grabbing a hoodie and a slipping an apple into his pocket.

Bucky doesn't stop moving till he's halfway down the fire escape. The banging at his door has started making growling and hissing moans. He doesn't want to see what was there.

He pauses, surveying the quiet street he was on. There are figures in the distance, but no noise. A few people lay on the ground below him. The gunshots.

Bucky race down, trying to be as silent as he was taught during training.

As he draws closer, he notices the blood splatter around the people. One of them only has half a head left, the rest of it scattered in the blood.

“That guys definitely dead.”

Bucky took a few more steps toward the people, trying to avoid the bits of brain littering the street. The people had misshapen faces, their flesh looked like it was dripping off their faces. The guy who wasn't missing half his head had his jaw exposed, all the skin and half the muscles gone. They were both pale.

Bucky took a few steps back. “Shit.”

He turned towards the figures who had been in the distance. They were now standing under a streetlight.

The flesh was rotten, a limb was missing one of them. They both looked up at him, starting to move forward, hunger in their eyes. Bucky's breath caught out of fear, he turned and ran.

~~~

**“Over the past week, there have been reports of decaying creatures called in by people across America and Canada. Today, they have reached the State of Texas and surrounding areas. We have not heard from any Governmental figures, but it is assumed to be happening around the world.”**

Static starts through the pocket radio again and Bucky turns it off fast. He doesn't want to attract any… Well, zombies. There was no denying it. The apocalypse had started, zombies and all.

Bucky had found a small building in there warehouse district after fighting through probably 15 of the monsters. He knows he's lucky. The largest mob he had met so far was only 25 (26? He lost track) and he had fought them off with bricks and a knife.

Bucky quickly finds an office, empty of monsters and not yet scavenged. After he barricades the door, he collapses into a chair, rubbing his eyes. Over the past three days, he'd gotten almost no sleep, just running. So much running.

He turns on his radio again, using the crank on the back to give it power. There's nothing new. Just static and announcements on where the infection has expanded to. No one even knows where it started.

Bucky stops cranking and slips the radio back into his pocket. He collects his backpack from the corner he dropped it in and starts searching for a power bar.

He finds one and tears into it, hungry as all hell. No food and no sleep. Reminds Bucky of his time overseas.

After finding a first aid kit in a drawer and tending to his wounds, Bucky goes through his pack, counting out his rations and supplies. He’s made it a routine, checking everything whenever he has the time.

He reloads the two pistols he… “Borrowed” from the firearm store. He’s lost a lot of bullets already.

“Guess my aim isn’t what it used to be. Colonel Phillips would be disappointed.” Bucky talks to himself. That's probably the only thing keeping him sane. Well, not that he was completely sane to begin with.

Bucky rechecks his barricade and does another check through the small room. He knows he can finish up scavenging after he sleeps, but the repetitive actions make him feel safer; makes him feel like he won’t be attacked.

He sets up his bed, which is actually just his jacket and a thin pillow he had put in his emergency backpack.

Bucky settles on the hard floor and stares up at the ceiling, wishing for just one night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that first chapter? Comments and kudos always welcome. I'll probably need some encouragement s̶i̶n̶c̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶i̶s̶h̶e̶d̶ so please leave your thoughts down below!  
> Note: This is pre-metal arm Bucky in chapter one, in case it wasn't obvious. You'll learn more later.  
> Until next time,  
> Read, Write, Love


	2. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes through his day and makes a new... Friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay! Chapter 2 is here!  
> This took me a while, but I didn't edit it so any mistakes are mine.  
> Steve is here!! His is small and sarcastic. And has a machete, so watch out!  
> This chapter is a bit longer so hopefully it makes up for a short chapter 1?  
> There's swearing and some violence in this chapter, but pretty much only against the zombies.

Bucky runs through the kitchen, opening drawers then immediately slamming them shut.

“Shit shit shit shit.”

A loud clicking comes from the next room, attracted by the sound of Bucky's rummaging. He could tell it was coming closer.

He pulls a gun out of the holster on his belt and prepares for the incoming clicker. Ducking behind a table, Bucky peeks through the doorway. The Clicker is roaming around, sensing its surroundings. Bucky pulls back behind the table again, waiting for the infected to get closer.

“Goddamn Clickers. It’s always the Clickers nowadays.” He mumbles to himself. He knows it's risky to make any sound while one of those things are around, but at this point he doesn’t care.

Bucky throws a brick over the table, sending the Clicker in the direction of the noise. He jumps over the table and aims his gun.

_ ‘Steady, steady…’ _

Bucky shoots four time, hitting the Clicker with all of them. It barely affects the creature, instead making it turn towards Bucky.

“Fuck,” Bucky throws the closest thing to him at the Clickers face. It turns out to be a bottle, which breaks on impact, sending the infected stumbling back. As it's momentarily blinded, Bucky charges forward, having switched from his gun to a knife. He drives the blade into the face of the creature, feeling it struggle under him.

It eventually falls to the ground not moving anymore. Bucky retrieves him blade from it's face, as well as a brick. He puts them away and continues scavenging the house.

There's not much. Some medical supplies, mostly painkillers. He finds a stash of bullets in a safe. Not for a gun he has, but every bit can come in handy. I nothing else, he can melt them down and turn them into something useful.

Bucky finds some blankets that have only been minorly eaten by bugs, and makes a bed on the floor upstairs. He does one more sweep of the house, even venturing outdoors to the shed where he finds gears.

After everything is sealed up, Bucky sits down and does an inventory check. He reloads his handguns and sniper rifle, and makes sure there's enough food for a while.

“Just going through the motions,” he grumbles to himself, “Always have to stay calm.”

Once Bucky's satisfied with everything, he lays down and closes his eyes. He thinks about the zombie that almost got him today. It only caught his left arm though. He thinks about the high pitched screech the claws had made when it met his metal arm.

Bucky shivers and roll over. He waits for the sounds of zombies and nature to put him to sleep.

~~~

Bucky wakes early the next morning. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, sending only a few rays through the boarded up windows and onto Bucky’s face.

He sits up, mouth dry and eyelids heavy. He should be used to this by now. It's only been happening for five years.

He goes about his morning routine: drinking water, eating a powerbar, and packing up. He goes through the house, finishing up the scavenging he promised himself he would do.

Bag full and now basically awake, Bucky unblocks the back door and goes into the yard. There's not much, but he does find a wooden bat he missed the night before and slips it into his bag. He starts his trek down the street. He doesn’t even bother checking the radio anymore. It's been silent for months.

_ ‘I guess they just gave up on reporting,’  _ Bucky thinks,  _ ‘Or they got turned.’ _

Bucky goes through his day, typical as any other. There are a couple small mobs, which he takes out easy, and at one point he finds a gang destroying some cars. He avoids them, and is soon out of the city.

“Older than the trees, younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze,” Bucky sings, entertaining himself. The old country songs make his heartbeat less fluttery, they give him a feeling of home. He remembers his mama singing them while baking. Or maybe his father listened to them on cassette tapes. He can never recall anymore.

Bucky’s been walking all day, and the sun has nearly set by the time he reaches a small farm. It looks abandoned, so he walks up the gravelly driveway.

The shutters are nailed shut and all the paint has peeled away, leaving Bucky a grey house with broken rocking chairs on the long deck.

He goes inside, careful to be silent. His pistol is in his hand as he strategically goes through the rooms. There's one zombie in a bedroom, but Bucky takes him out easily.

Bucky does his nightly routine. There are no clean blankets or sheets, so he sleeps on the floor with just his jacket and a sweater for the pillow.

He sleeps until almost midnight.

~~~

“Motherfuckin’ zombies.”

A small figure walks through the forest. A large machete hangs from his hand, dragging along beside him. The bag on his back is almost as big as him.

“I don’t even know where I am,” He keeps muttering to himself, “Probably Kentucky. Who even likes Kentucky? No one.”

The forest is dark, and the boy has no idea what's lurking in the shadows. With his stupidity (and half-deaf ears), there are probably zombies surrounding him and he doesn’t even know.

The trees start to become more sparse. A few are cut down, with new ones growing in their place. The boy doesn’t care what's around him, as long as there's a place to crash for the night. Or the week.

There's a clearing ahead. The boy can barely make it out in the dark. The moon has retreated behind clouds since the last time he wasn’t in trees. Across the field, he can see a farmhouse.

“Finally,” the boy says, “Please don’t be inhabited by zombies. I’m too fucking tired.”

He's halfway across the field when he hears it. A low growling. A sound he knows too well. Unfortunately, zombie don’t like being told to go away. He just hopes they’re not Clickers. He hates Clickers.

The boy starts jogging. Not too much, as his asthma would probably act up, but enough to got him the the house just a little bit quicker.

A zombie lunges at him. It looks like a Stalker. He can deal with those.

He swings the machete and it hits the infecteds neck. He pulls it back and goes once more. The head falls off and he takes a couple steps back. The zombie drops in front of him.

“That's what you get, asshole.”

He walks up the deck stairs and opens the door. Well, tries to. It's blocked from the inside.

“Nice going, Steve. Now what are you going to do?” He realizes he talks to himself a lot, but that doesn’t stop him. Every since Sam left…

Steve walks around the side of the house, looking for an open window. There's only one weak enough for him to even try breaking it open.

He pulls a crate from the front around and climbs up on it. He uses his blade as a leverage and opens the window with little struggle. He's halfway in when he hears the voice and sees the flash of a metal… Arm?

“Don’t move a fucking muscle.”

~~~

Bucky notices the muttering from outside and is soon on his feet.

He grabs his rifle and walked downstairs and quietly as he could. There's  a noise coming from the kitchen, so he stalks around until he stood in the doorway.

The window was open. A boy is climbing in, a flashlight on his shoulder and a machete in hand. Bucky raises the rifle and aims it at the boy.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle.”

The boy pauses, but rolls his eyes. “Come on, man. I just got here. Can’t you at least let me get all the way in before pulling a gun? Maybe ask if I’m okay?”

Bucky is surprised by the guys deep voice and sarcasm. He falters and lowers his rifle.

“That's better.” The boy (man?) finishes climbing in and hops off the counter. His backpack is almost as big as him. He’s skinny, but Bucky can make out a bit of muscle definition on his arms. His flashlight reflects off Bucky's arm.

The guy raises his hands. “Okay, now you may interrogate me.”

“Uh,” Bucky raises his gun again, but not with as much anger. “Who are you and why are you here? Are you infected? Is there anyone else?”   
The guy walks up to Bucky. He’s short. “I’m Steve and I’m here to sleep. If I was infected I wouldn’t have stopped you from shooting. And there's no one with me anymore.”

_ ‘Anymore?’ _

Bucky hesitates before lowering his gun again. He swings it over his shoulder.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky? That's a weird name. Who gave you that?”

Bucky swallows. “My sister.”

The guy, Steve, frowns a bit. “Why is your arm metal?”

“None of your business. What is this, 20 Questions?”

Steve shrugs and ducks around Bucky.

“Are there any blankets in this house? I’m guessing you’ve already scavenged it. If not, you’re an idiot. Did you take out all the zombies?” He starts walking up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the other man.

Bucky chases after him. “No blankets, I didn’t finish scavenging, and I obviously took out the zombies. What do you think you’re doing?”

Steve stops walking halfway up the staircase and looks over his shoulder. “I already told you, I’m going to sleep.” He continues up and goes into the room Bucky was in.

“Hm, guess you took this one. I’ll take the other room.”

Bucky watches as the small man turns around and goes into the room next to his.

“If I’m still asleep when you get up, can you wake me? I have to get going asap.”

With that, the door shuts and Bucky is left standing in the hallway, wondering who the hell Steve thinks he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is fucked  
> Hope you guys enjoyed!! Chapter 3 will be up tomorrow. Comment and kudos are always appreciated. The song Bucky's singing is Take Me Home Country Roads  
> Until tomorrow,  
> Read, Write, Love


	3. Steve Rogers, Zombie Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky leaves Steve, only to find him again later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I guess this is turning into a "Write an Entire Chapter in a Day" challenge. Over 2000 words.  
> Steve backstory!! I hope its not too awkward. I liked writing it  
> If I didn't mention before, zombie names are stolen from The Last of Us. I played it again and was inspired to write a Stucky fic.  
> Anyway! More zombie killing and swearing.

The first thing Bucky hears is screaming. Not scared screaming, but more like a battle cry. Like whomever it was, was going to fuck some people up.

He sits bolt upright. Who's yelling? He tries to remember if he had been traveling with anyone. Had he me-

The boy from last night. Who climbed in through the window. Steve.

“Shit. Steve!” Bucky jumps up and grabs his rifle. A knife is still hidden in his boot. He basically rips the door to his room of it's hinges with his mechanical arm.

Bucky can hear fight and growling coming from downstairs. His feet barely touch the steps and he runs down.

His instincts tell him to go to the back room, which he hadn't searched very thoroughly the night before. He curses himself. He usually checks everywhere three times.

Sure enough, Steve is back there, fighting off 4 Runners and a Clicker by himself.

“How the-” Bucky notices a door wide open, with stairs leading down.

Steve looks over his shoulder for the couple seconds he can spare.

“I can handle this!” Steve says, waving at him to go away.

Bucky aims his gun at the closest Runner and pulls the trigger. It goes down after two bullets. Steve swings his blade at one of the remaining ones and cuts it's head off.

“Well that's one way to do it.” Bucky notices that Steve isn't as urgent with his motions, he thinks out every move before doing it. He has his back to Bucky and is keeping the infected in front of him.

“Watch out!”

Bucky's thoughts are interrupted by the Clicker. It's gotten closer. Steve's shout distracts it enough for Bucky to leap over the couch dividing them and drive his knife into the creature's head.

Steve takes out the last one before turning to Bucky and rolling his eyes.

“You're welcome.”

Bucky's brows knit together. “For what?”

Steve walks past him, wiping his machete blade on the couch. “Got any food?”

They walk back upstairs, Bucky to pack his bags and Steve to… do whatever Steve does. Bucky doesn't know.

“Why would I share with you? I don't even know you.”

“I just saved your life. Though you should've left. I had them under control.”

Bucky starts rolling up his sweater and checking his guns. “You call five zombies running loose ‘under control’? If anything, I saved you from getting bitten.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “I would have been fine.”

Bucky shook his head. “Whatever you say, pal. I've got to leave now,” he stands up and starts to leave, but the smaller man blocks his path.

“Before you go, which way is New York?”

Bucky shrugs. “How would I know? It's not like GPS works anymore.”

He pushes past Steve and goes downstairs.

He starts scavenging the kitchen. Only broken knives and plates. Nothing useful. He moves into the study. Nothing.

He hasn't heard anything from Steve either. He hopes the man gave up and went back to sleep.

Bucky's about to step outside when Steve appears behind him, backpack ready and machete hanging from a holster on his belt.

“Guess that's it.” Steve holds out a hand, expecting Bucky to shake it. “You're good with that rifle.”

Bucky apprehensively takes Steve's hand, eyeing him. “Thanks. I had a good teacher.”

They stay like that for a moment. Steve pulls back first. “Thank you for letting me stay here with you for the night. I appreciate your hospitality.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow.  _ ‘What happened to the sarcastic guy who demanded food 10 minutes ago?’ _

“Uh, you're welcome? It's not really my place so-”

“But you forgot to check the basement. Seven zombies were down there. Next time, stop travelling earlier, so you won't be as tired and you can check everywhere.”

Steve ducks around Bucky and opens the front door. “Good luck, Bucky. Stay safe.”

He walks out and starts jogging down the long driveway.

Bucky stares after him. “Who the fuck is that guy?”

~~~

Steve loves making people question him, but not in the way you would think.

This is the third time he's just shown up somewhere, met someone, and then ran away.

Of course the first time, he ended up staying with the couple for four years. And the second group he met during those four years.

Steve continues through the woods. It's a harder to walk, but Sam had taught him there aren't many infected in the forest, so if there was a wooded area, Steve would walk it.

The trees were getting sparse around midday.

“Town up ahead. Great. That's means people. And zombies. And resources.”

Steve hates cities. Well, not when they were alive. Brooklyn always had lights and sounds. Now, hopefully, it will again.

He walks over roots and around rocks, avoiding anything that looks harmful or like it could slow him down. He doesn't jog anymore. He's losing his breath.

Steve sits and pulls a water bottle out of his bag. It's almost empty, so he doesn't bother trying to wash his hair or face, opting to just drink all of it.

As he rests, Steve thinks about the weird man at the farm. Bucky.

“Why did he have a metal arm? And his hair was so long. I mean, I know it's the apocalypse and stuff, but he seemed coordinated enough to shave a little and cut his hair.”

Steve had started walking again, talking to himself. Sam used to say it was the only thing keeping him sane.

~~~

The sun is sitting on top of the horizon when Bucky gets to the next city. He thinks of what Steve said, and makes his way to the nearest house.

The roof is half caved in and most of the windows are broken, but Bucky finds sheets and blankets, so he decided to stay. He makes a bed of the first floor instead and starts doing his nightly rounds. There are some rifle bullets in a dresser upstairs, which he slips into his pocket. The only other thing he can find was some food a previous scavenger probably left.

Bucky sits on the blankets, checking his guns and knife. He does some repairs on one of the handguns and cleans up the blade.

He's just about to lay down for the night when he hears the zombies. And the screaming.

“Always with the screaming,” Bucky grabs his rifle and goes to unblock the front door.

Outside, all he can make out is a bright light jumping around and a gang of Stalkers chasing after it.

The person with the light is shouting profanities and trying to get away from the zombies. They are, sadly, failing.

“Hey!” Bucky yells out at the person. The zombies hear him to and turn towards the house. He shoots a few down and waves at the light. They start jogging towards him, flailing something at any creatures around them. The infected fall as it hits them.

As the shape grows closer, Bucky recognizes them.

“Steve?”

The blond man runs past Bucky and starts pulling him back. “Get inside! There are too many. Barricade the door.”

Bucky falls back into the house and slams the door. Steve helps him push a bookcase in front of it. They retreat back into the living room, where Bucky had set up his stuff.

The smaller man bends over and puts his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Holy- I thought I was dead.”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky throws his rifle on his bed and walks up to Steve. The blond sits down next to the gun and puts his head between his knees. “I told you,” Steve says, breathy, “I’m trying to get to New York. This just happened to be the way I decided to go.”

Bucky appreciates the guys willingness to keep going. Even just in the last twelve hours, the man looks like he's gone through hell.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, quickly checking the windows in the room. He doesn't want any zombies (or people) climbing in through the window.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… Give me a couple minutes.” Steve waves a hand at Bucky, dismissively. “Are you cold?”

Bucky has his arms crossed and is staring down at the small man. “Do you want me to make a fire?”

“No, I can do it.”

~~~

“So,”

Bucky and Steve are sat opposite each other around a small fire in the middle of the living room. He watches the light of the flames dance on Steve's thin face. He can't help but think the small man is kind of handsome.

Steve looks up at Bucky, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering,” Bucky looks down, “Why are you so insistent on going to New York?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, playing with a piece of wood.

“It's a long story. Well, probably not that long, but whatever.”

Bucky waits for him to start. The fire crackles.

“When I was young, I lived in Brooklyn. My mother was a nurse and my father was a dead war hero. Got sick a lot. Like, at least once a month. I almost died yearly. I lived in the same apartment from the day I was born to the day my mother died.” Steve smiles, but Bucky can see it's a sad one. “I promised myself I would go back to my home eventually. A year later, the zombies started coming. I was living across Brooklyn at the time. I was also sick. I ran, sick, into the night.” Steve gives a weak laugh. “How poetic. I lived, weakly, for six months. I still don’t know how. Sam had a theory that I was too sick to die.” Steve saw the confusion on Bucky's face. “Right, Sam. Uh, after the six months, Sam and his boyfriend, Riley, found me. I was basically passed out in an abandoned clinic. And after they woke me up, I waked away, insisting I was fine. And then actually passed out about five minutes later. I don't remember the next month, but Sam and Riley nursed me back to health.They grew on me, and I stuck with them for four years. Sam's the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Steve wipes his eye, avoiding Bucky's gaze. “About nine months ago, Riley got bitten. He insisted we leave him behind. Sam couldn’t. We brought him for as long as we could. Three days. He turned and..”

Steve starts crying. Bucky doesn’t know what to do, so he waits quietly for Steve to calm down.

He takes a shaky breath. “Sam and I kept going. Outside Boston, we met Tony.” Bucky's head shoots up at the name, brows knit. “He said he had a fully working building in Manhattan. He and some friends were working to make to city nice again, a place for people to live. If we got there, we would be invited in and looked after. I loved the idea. I thought, “Hey, I can go home. I can see the city I love again.” Sam agreed to come with me. He was my best friend, and the only person I would want to come home with me. Two months ago, Sam died.”

Bucky interrupts for the first time, “I’m so sorry for your lose.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “He wasn’t really the same after Riley. He was just surviving to… Survive I guess. A Clicker got him. Ever since, it's been just me. I’ve convinced myself I need to get to Manhattan. I need to do this one thing for myself.”

The house is quiet again. Bucky rests his head on his hand.

“Tony, what's his last name?”

Steve looks up. “Stark, I think. He talked like he was famous or something, but I’ve never heard of him. Why, you know him?”

Bucky doesn't say anything, instead just nodding.

Steve yawns. “I’m tired. Put out the fire when you go to sleep. Don’t want to die tonight.”

Bucky watches as the small man pulls a blanket over himself and rolls over. He decides, then and there, that he will get Steve to New York. No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Sam.  
> Hope you guys liked it! Sorry it was a bit late. As always, comments and kudos appreciated. Until next time,  
> Read, Write, Love


End file.
